


brave face talk so lightly

by byesweetheart (ConstantComment)



Series: Follower Ficlet Fests [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, College AU, Feelings Realization, Guitarist Hinata, Hate to Love, Jock Hinata, Jock Kageyama, Jocks and Hipsters, Love at First Sight, M/M, Musician Hinata, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Hinata Shouyou, Past Break Ups, Second Chances, open mic night, song inspiration, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/byesweetheart
Summary: It’s only been a week since Kageyama came to college, but already he can’t stand Hinata Shouyou.





	brave face talk so lightly

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth 1k FOLLOW FICLET FEST ficlet (FFFf) for @sparkelingbiscuit!!!! My dear, thank you so much for introducing me to [Dodie’s “Sick of Losing Soulmates”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=namgWBbMFiU) for this prompt. I loved it so much that this ficlet kind of ran away from me with your request for a dash of angst. (Happy ending, promise.) Hope you like it!!!! ^__^
> 
> (Additional note: this.... is probably my favorite from the fest as of right now.)

Hinata Shouyou is obnoxious. Kageyama has only known him for a week but, being one of only four freshmen players on a volleyball team that spends every fucking waking minute together, he already knows. Hinata is awfully dramatic for a varsity athlete (emphasis on  _awful_ ). And he’s loud, childishly excitable, arms waving around like he has to draw the shape of his words with his hands… And he’s fucking weird too in that way that jocks just  _aren’t_. So, when Kageyama finds out he’s going to be living in the visual and performing arts dorm after pre-season ends and their freshman year begins, things start to make a lot more sense. 

If Kageyama thought he was insufferable before, though, it’s nothing compared to when the rest of the school floods campus for orientation – through the scheduled events with teachers who use weird combinations of slang to try to connect with The Youth, the dumb icebreaking exercises with other freshmen he’ll never talk to outside of his core classes, the parties where everyone drinks so much they either pass out or have to be carted back to the dorms within the first hour. All of that is, apparently, Hinata’s bread and butter. He talks about all his new friends and the wild hangover his roommate got and his favorite team-building exercise and how he wants to start a band with some people he did jello shots with and how he’s actually kind of excited (read: ecstatic) about this dance class he signed up for with his theatre major neighbor— 

“ _Hinata,_ ” Kageyama grits out. 

Hinata lifts his head from where it had been hidden in his t-shirt as he wiped sweat from his forehead. He’s got that stupid elastic headband to keep the bright orange flyaway hair on his head from flopping into his eyes on the court, and he’s still got his shirt tucked into his fists up at his chin so his sweaty abs are on full display, and his stupid short gym shorts are slung low on his hips. And he’s got a dumb look on his face like Kageyama just slapped him.

“Can you like, shut the hell up every once in a while?” 

Hinata blinks, and his shirt falls back in its place, damp and sticking to his stomach. He looks around at the other players taking a break from drills, and then back at Kageyama. 

“Yeah, man,” he says, chilly. “I can.” 

He walks away to talk someone else into their grave, and Kageyama breathes a sigh of relief in the quiet. But, through the rest of practice, it’s almost like he’s right at Kageyama’s side (like he has been since they met) anyway since he keeps glancing at Kageyama every minute until the moment practice ends, when he runs off to get pizza with his weirdo art friends. Finally. 

Kageyama doesn’t like him. 

Apparently, not-liking-him isn’t enough to dissuade Daichi, their team captain, from making the whole team show up for orientation’s Open Mic Night in the basement of Hinata’s dorm on the Friday night before classes start. 

Kageyama leans on the wall in the back of the room, trying not to cringe through a terrible cover of some Colbie Caillat song, and an uncomfortably sexual slam poem, and a couple other forgettable acts before Hinata appears at the front with an acoustic guitar strapped to his back. 

Kageyama has barely seen him out of his athletic gear, so it’s jarring that he seems to own a light blue plaid shirt and dark skinny jeans, cuffed to show off his high tops and the tiny strip of sun-tanned skin above them. His hair is in a short, chaotic ponytail, and if he hadn’t declared proudly that he had 20/20 vision the other day at team breakfast, Kageyama would have expected him to be wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Otherwise, though, he looks like one of them. 

He seems to be biting his lip raw as he tunes his guitar to the old piano behind him, and then he turns around to the crowd. 

“H-hi everyone,” Hinata says, and the speakers feed back with a high, grating hum. He looks around the cramped room with his big eyes, lips barely touching the mic. “Uhm. I’m gonna sing an original. So like, be nice.” 

Someone yells his name in the crowd and he laughs nervously, eyes squinting as he tucks his messy hair, the hank that’s fallen out of his ponytail, behind his ear. He lifts his guitar and fidgets on the stool on the tiny, ratty-carpeted stage and starts picking out the beginning notes of a song with his small fingers. 

Kageyama doesn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe something stupid, bouncy… boring, maybe funny. (If Hinata could be called funny.) 

But this…

It’s sad. 

Not pathetic or anything, just lonely. The notes are almost sweet, reminding Kageyama of whispers into your ear, or rain, or… something. And Hinata’s voice is earnest. Not fancy or strong or gravelly like all the pop singers’ are, just simple. Good. 

Kageyama feels like he’s intruding, like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t see, especially when Hinata’s voice floats upward and wavers playfully on a high note before dipping into the first chorus. 

Maybe Hinata has the same effect on the rest of the crowd, who all watch solemnly as he plays, but… maybe they don’t all feel a heavy knot in their chest like Kageyama.

“[‘Cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dodieclark/sickoflosingsoulmates.html),” Hinata sings at his flitting fingers. He flubs a note slightly, but makes up for it with a quick grin at the row of people sitting on the floor in the front.

Hinata is a different person up there. Or maybe he’s more himself.  

He’s...

Kageyama runs a hand through his hair. He’s never called a guy beautiful before, but the word hangs in his minds eye, butting up against his tongue. 

When Hinata plucks at the final chord, there’s a heavy silence in the crowd, like people weren’t ready for it to be over. Or maybe that’s just Kageyama. 

He jolts slightly and bumps Tsukishima’s arm with his shoulder when Sugawara yells, “Yeah, Shouyou!” and then the whole room erupts with whistles and applause. Tsukishima looks down at Kageyama, lifting a blond eyebrow as he claps. 

Kageyama looks away from his teammate in favor of watching Hinata nearly run offstage and out the side door to the alleyway as a group of girls climb over their neighbors to get to the stage next. 

It’s shocking how cool the air is outside compared to the sweaty closeness of the performance space, the sounds of women singing muting abruptly as the door slams shut. It’s almost as shocking as when Kageyama realizes he actually squeezed through a whole clusterfuck of strangers to go after Hinata. 

He looks around for a second before he spots him, bent double in the nearby landscaping with his guitar still strapped to his back. He’s taking long, deep breaths of the late summer air, eyes closed. 

“Are you okay?” Kageyama calls out. 

He watches Hinata’s shoulders tense a little as he steps closer, and then Hinata replies with a wobbly, “Ah, yeah. I’m fine,” to the mulch below him. When Kageyama stops just a foot or so away, Hinata rises and rolls his shoulders back, opens his eyes. “Just... trying not to lose my dinner,” he croaks, and glances over his shoulder. 

It’s dark, but Kageyama tries his best to examine the shape of Hinata’s eyes for that second before they blink in recognition.

“I get really bad stage fright,” Hinata explains. “You’ll see it before games, too. It’s not as bad with volleyball, but, yeah.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” Kageyama says after a moment. “When you were playing. You were—”  _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_ “—uhm, really good.” 

Hinata smiles briefly.

“I’ve totally puked before. Like, in front of people,” he says. 

“Fuck,” Kageyama replies. 

“Yeah, my first time performing solo. I wasn’t supposed to but my—my best friend bailed on me ‘cause he knew I was good and wanted people to see, or something. It was baaaad. I made it through maybe the first verse of Pompeii? And then BLEEHHHRGH!” 

Kageyama makes a noise of sympathy, watching Hinata’s face go from amused to quiet again, his small hands falling back to his sides, and then folding against his chest. 

“That’s who the song was about… by the way,” Hinata adds, gesturing with his chin toward the door they came out of. “We dated and broke up and dated again, and now we don’t talk to each other.” 

Kageyama takes a deep breath and lets it out. He’s not sure what to say. 

“You’re gay?” he asks eventually, sure that that was not the appropriate response. His stomach feels funny. Maybe he’ll throw up too. 

“Yeah, well, I’m pan, I guess? And… I mean, we already know you already don’t like me so why bother pretending I’m something else in the hopes that you will?” 

“I like you!” Kageyama starts, not bothering to ponder what ‘pan’ means. “I mean, I dunno. I just suck.” 

Hinata readjusts his guitar on his shoulder, stutters out a small laugh. 

“Generally. As a person,” Kageyama adds. “I’m only good at volleyball and then everything else is a complete fucking struggle.” 

Hinata’s eyes are wide, and he tucks that stray lock of hair behind his ear again because it keeps falling against his cheek, and still Kageyama can’t get the fucking word  _beautiful_ out of his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama tries after a long moment. “I think maybe you, uhm… I’m jealous, because you’re like, my opposite. You’re so happy. And you’re good at talking to people, and making friends, and you’re amazing at guitar and  _singing_ —” 

“I’m amazing?” Hinata asks with a laugh. 

“—so it’s intimidating.” 

“And I’m intimidating! God, Kageyama, stroke my ego some  _more_ , please!” he says, pressing a hand to his chest and grinning cheekily. 

Kageyama’s cheeks heat, so he looks away. He scuffs his sneakers on the ground. 

“Hey,” Hinata says with a quick exhale. “Wanna be my friend?” 

Kageyama glances at him, feels his blush travel all the way down to his neck. Nods. 

“Will you do one thing for me first? No questions asked?” 

Kageyama nods again, heart thumping. 

“Close your eyes.”

Kageyama closes his eyes, and then a small hand is slipping around the nape of his neck, pulling him downward. There’s a soft, slightly slick pressure on his lips, and a puff of breath through a nose up close, and Kageyama’s eyebrows knit together because he’s not supposed to look but he  _wants_ — 

The pressure is fleeting, but the hand on his neck runs its little fingers through Kageyama’s hair before leaving too. 

Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut until Hinata hums thoughtfully. “Guess I read that right,” he murmurs. 

Kageyama looks down at Hinata, who’s considering him with his head cocked to the side. His smile is somewhere between knowing and shy. 

“Don’t you wanna hit me or something?” Kageyama blurts out. “I was a dick to you.” 

Hinata laughs before making a dubious noise through his nose. “Maybe later,” he says. “First week doesn’t count, anyway,” he adds with a wink. 

Kageyama fights a smile. “Uh, does that mean…” 

“That the kiss doesn’t count?” 

Kageyama huffs. “Yeah.”  

“Depends,” Hinata says. “What do you think?” 

Kageyama stares at Hinata, whose smile grows bigger and bigger like the corners of his mouth are connected to Kageyama’s racing heartbeat by a tight string. 

After an eternity, he turns away and says, “C’mon, ‘Yama. Toss to me for a bit?” The light from the alley lights shines off of his guitar as he starts down the asphalt hill to get across campus. It’s 10 PM on a Friday and Hinata Shouyou wants to play volleyball. 

Kageyama chews on his lip before jogging after him. When he catches up, he gets to see Hinata smile again. “Yeah, okay,” he says. 

Hinata chatters all the way across campus to the gym, and Kageyama somehow doesn’t mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hinata sings Dodie’s song in this fic, except [maybe he’d sound like this guy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO6bKkXhNp8) (with maybe with fewer Cali vowels and more training). 
> 
> Love y’all, hope you liked this; it felt really good writing it. <3 
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/byesweetheart_)!


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